Imatges de pàgina


(5.) 'A little bench of heedless bishops here,

And there a chancellor in embryo,
Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,

As Milton, Shakspeare-names that ne'er shall die,” &c.
These lines, are thought by Mr. D’Israeli, to have suggested to Gray, the lines in nis

Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood, &c. Chambers thinks the conception of Shenstone-that in the undeveloped minds of these young children there may slumber the powers of poet or statesman far more natural, than that of Gray, that the peasant should have grown up to be a man, and to have gone to his grave, without having given indications of the existence of these powers.

(6.) Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame,

There dwells in lowly shed,” ft. For the illustration of Sarah Lloyd's thatched cottage, near Hales-Owen, Shrop. shire, we are indebted to J. P. Jewett & Co., Boston, the publishers of Rural Poetry,” a royal octavo volume of 544 pages of the best poetry which has been inspired by the charms of nature, the occupations of the garden and the field, and the genius of domestic lise. The cut is copied from one introduced by Shenstone in the original edition of his poem-which was printed in red letter, and illustrated by designs of his own. The last edition published by Shensione contains seven stanzas more than the first, with several omissions and verbal alterations. To the first edition was appended

"ludicrous inder," so styled by Shenstone himself, in one of his letters, “purely to show fools that I am in jest." As a contribution to the literature of Education, we publish this Index, from Mr. D’Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, second series." Stanza.

Stanza. Introduction,

structure, decoration, and fortificaThe subject proposed,

tions of an HORN-BIBLE,

18 A circumstance in the situation of the A surprising picture of sisterly affection MANSION EARLY DISCIPLINE, by way of episode,

20, 21 discovering the surprising influence A short list of the methods now in use of the connections of ideas,

3 to avoid a whipping—which nevertheA simile ; introducing a deprecation of less follows,

22 the joyless effects of BIGOTRY and The force of example,


4 A sketch of the particular symptoms of Some peculiarities indicative of a COUN- obstinacy as they discover themselves

TRY SCHOOL, with a short sketch of in a child, with a simile illustrating a the SOVEREIGN presiding over it, 5 blubbered face,

24, 25, 26 Some account of her NIGHT CAP, A hint of great importance,

27 APRON, and a tremendous description The piety of the poet in relation to that of her BIRCHEN SCEPTRE,

. school-dame's memory, who had the A parallel instance of the advantages of first formation of a CERTAIN patriot,

LEGAL GOVERNMENT with regard to [This stanza has been left out in the la. children and the wind,

7 ter editions ; it refers to the Duke of

Argyle.] Her Titles, and punctilious nicely in The secret connection between whIP.

the ceremonious assertion of them, 9 PING and RISING IN THE WORLD, A digression concerning her hen's pre- with a view as it were, through a per

sumptuous behavior, with a circum- spective, of the same LiTTLE FOLK stance tending to give the cautious in the highest posts and reputation, 28 reader a more accurate idea of the An account of the nature of an EMBRYO officious diligence and economy of an FOX-HUNTER, old woman,

10 [Another stanza omitted.] A view of this RURAL POTENTATE as À deviation to an huckster's shop, 32

seated in her chair of state, conser- Which being continued for the space of ring HONORS, distributing BOUNTIES, three stanzas, gives the author an opand dispersing PROCLAMATIONS,

16 portunity of paying his compliments Her POLICIES,

17 to a pariicular county, which he glad. The action of the poem commences ly seizes; concluding his piece with

with a general summons, follows a respectful mention of the ancient and particular description of the artful loyal cily of SHREWSBURY.

1 2



Her gown,






Thomas Gray, of all English poets the most finished artist, was born in London, in 1716, and was the only one of twelve children who survived the period of infancy. His father was a money.scrivener, and of harsh and violent disposition, whose wife was forced to separate from him; and to the exertions of this excellent woman, as partner with her sister in a millinery business, the poet owed the advantages of a learned education, toward which his father had refused all assistance. He was sent to be educated at Eton, where a maternal uncle, named Antrobus, was one of the assistant-masters. He remained here six

years, and made himself a good classic; he was an intimate associate of the accomplished Richard West, this being one of the most interesting school-friendships on record. West went to Oxford, whence he thus wrote to Gray :

“You use me very cruelly: you have sent me but one letter since I have been at Oxford, and that too agreeable not to make me sensible how great my loss is in not having more. Next to seeing you is the pleasure of seeing your handwriting ; next to hearing you is the pleasure of hearing from you. Really and sincerely, I wonder at you, that you thought it not worth while to answer my last letter. I hope this will have better success in behalf of your quondam school-fellow; in behalf of one who has walked hand in hand with you, like the two children in the wood,

Thro' many a flow'ry path and shelly grot,

Where learning lull’ed her in her private maze. The very thought, you see, tips my pen with poetry, and brings Eton to my view."

Another of Gray's associates at Eton was Horace Walpole; they removed together to Cambridge; Gray resided at Peterhouse from 1735 to 1738, when he left without a degree. The spirit of Jacobitism and its concomitant hard-drinking, which then prevailed at Cambridge, ill-suited the taste of Gray; nor did the uncommon proficienсу he had made at Eton bold first rank, for he complains of college impertinences, and the endurance of lectures, daily and hourly. “Must I pore into metaphysics?” asks Gray. “Alas, I can not see in the dark; nature has not furnished me with the optics of a cat. Must I pore upon mathematics? Alas, I can not see in too much light; I am no eagle. It is very possible that two and two make four, but I would

not give four farthings to demonstrate this ever so clearly; and if these be the profits of life, give me the amusements of it.” Yet Gray subsequently much regretted that he had never applied his mind to the study of nathematics; and once, rather late in life, had an intention to undertake it. His time at Cambridge was devoted to classics, modern languages, and poetry; and a few Latin poems and English translations were made by him at this period. In the agonies of leaving college,” be complains of “the dust, the old boxes, the bedsteads, and tutors,” that were about his ears. “I am coming away,” he says, "all so fast, and leaving behind me, without the least remorse, all the beauties of Stourbridge Fair. Its white bears may roar, its apes may wring their bands, and crocodiles cry their eyes out, all's one for that; I shall not once visit them, nor so much as take my leave."

In a letter to Mr. West, he says: “I learn Italian like any dragon, and in two months am got through the 16th Book of Tasso, whom I hold in great admiration; I want you to learn too, that I may know your opinion of bim; nothing can be easier than that language to any one who knows Latin and French already, and there are few so copious and expressive.”

In 1739, Gray accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour through France and Italy; but, as they could not agree, Gray being, as Walpole has it, “ too serious a companion," the former returned to England in 1741. He next went to Cambridge, to take his degree in Civil Law. He now devoted himself to the classics, and at the same time cultivated his muse. At Cambridge he was considered an unduly fastidious man, and the practical jokes and “incivilities" played off upon him by his fellow-inmates at Peterhouse—one of which was a false alarm of fire, through which he descended from his window to the ground by a rope—was the cause of his migrating to Pembroke Hall. He subsequently obtained the professorship of Modern History in the University. He usually passed the summer with his mother, at Stoke, near Eton, in which picturesque locality he composed his two most celebrated poems—the Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, and his Elegy written in a Country Churchyard.

Gray continued to reside at Cambridge, and prosecuted his studies in natural history, as well as in almost every department of learning, until 1771, when he died, and was buried, according to his desire, by the side of his mother, at Stoke.

There scattered oft, the earliest of the year,

By hands unseen, are showers of violets found.
The little red-bird builds and warbles there,
And fairy foot-steps lightly print the ground.

Yo distant spires, ye antique towers,

That crown the wat'ry glade,
Where grateful science still adores

Her Henry's holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
uf grove, of lawn, of mead survey,

Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among

Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver winding way!

Ah happy hills ! ah pleasing shade !

Ah fields beloved in vain,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd

A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
As waving fresh their gladsome wing,

My weary soul they seem to sooth,

And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.

Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen

Full many a sprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green

The paths of pleasure trace,
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthrall ?

What idle progeny succeed

To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball ?

While some on earnest business bent

Their murmuring labors ply
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint

To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare descry:

Still as they run they look behind,

They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,

Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed,

The sunshine of the breast: Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever-new, And lively cheer of vigor born;

The thoughtless day, the easy nighting

The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas ! regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come,

Nor care beyond to-day:
Yet see how all around 'em wait
The Ministers of human fate,
And black Misfortune's baleful train!

Ah, show them where in ambush stand

To seize their prey the murth’rous band : Ah, tell them they are men !

These shall the fury Passions tear,

The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame that sculks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their youth.g
Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,
That inly knaws the secret heart,

And Envy wan, and faded Care,

Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this shall tempt to rise,

Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,

And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood, those shall try, And hard unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow;

And keen Remorse with blood defiled,

And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.

Lo, in the vale of years beneath

A griesly troop are seen, The painful family of Death,

More hideous than their Queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every laboring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage :

Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,

That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age.

To each his suff'rings: all are men,

Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain,

Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate! Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies.

Thought would destroy their paradise.

No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

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